


drifting through my opened mind

by SafelyCapricious



Series: rogue lycanthropes [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-03-30 01:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3917839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SafelyCapricious/pseuds/SafelyCapricious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grant honestly doesn't mind the speed of their courtship. </p><p>He does mind anyone else caring about their courtship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. don't worry baby

He’d known that Skye was going to tell Jemma about him being in love with her soon. Skye’s bet required Jemma to know during this week, after all. 

He was almost disappointed that he had missed the actual conversation, however. Jemma relayed most of it to him, on the walk to dinner, but had he been present he might’ve managed to stop the girl from telling Jemma about the bets. 

He’d known Jemma wouldn’t like the bets. 

And his reasoning that it helped him know who might need to be dealt with was not going to appease her at all. Especially since Skye had also managed to tell Jemma about the encouragement he’d been providing, to give her the space and time she requested. 

Jemma wasn’t unhappy with him. But she also kept hitting him any time he so much as narrowed his eyes at anyone else. And while he didn’t mind the hitting, it didn’t hurt and usually she would rub the spot absently afterwards because she felt bad, it was the principle of the thing. 

The principle was that he wanted her to be happy. He knew she liked having the quiet time in the lab, that she liked not being hit on by incompetent agents, that she liked people being respectful. She didn’t like people being afraid of him. 

He’d come to terms with the reality of his situation early on in his SHIELD career. He was a specialist, one of the best in fact, and he was a lycanthrope. The second bit of information was supposed to be on a strictly need-to-know basis, but he wasn’t just a lycanthrope in that he turned into a wolf sometimes and otherwise was a normal human. He was always a lycanthrope even when he looked like a man. The vast majority of people were wary of him regardless. He was a predator and even if they weren’t consciously aware of it, they knew instinctively.

So he knew that people were going to be afraid of him regardless. 

Jemma wasn’t willing to accept that. 

She’d never been afraid of him and had trouble understanding why anyone would be.

And that was the real reason she objected on him making sure she got her space and her respect, because he was actively using the fear people naturally had of him. 

That being said, one time an agent had seen her hit him and his cessation of glaring, the man had made a whiplash noise and obnoxious gesture. 

Jemma had taken exception to it.

The agent still nearly ran from any room that Jemma entered, and Grant hadn’t done a thing but stand back and laugh.

He wasn’t sure why Jemma being terrifying surprised anyone – the first night he’d met her she’d been kidnapped by HYDRA, had managed to escape using a piece of glass and her understanding of human anatomy and had befriended a wolf in the woods. Yet people seemed to think she was some sort of shrinking violet. Even her close friends were surprised when she showed her teeth. 

He wasn’t. 

He loved that about her. Well, he loved everything about her, from how she’d wrinkle her nose before trying something new to the little purr of delight she’d give when she particularly liked something, to how she wasn’t afraid of him, to how she would snarl and growl when she felt it was necessary. 

And despite what Skye had assumed – he wasn’t unhappy with how slow their courting process was going. He loved everything he knew about her – but that didn’t mean he knew everything about her. And she certainly didn’t know everything about him. 

Plus he wanted it to last. 

This wasn’t a romance novel, she wasn’t his mate and it wasn’t like he’d never be able to love again – but he didn’t want to love again. That wasn't how werewolves worked – despite what Skye seemed inclined to believe.

He was actually glad she wanted to move so slowly, it gave him time to adjust as well. He was never good at pretending to be human. 

It’s been about a month since Skye discovered that they were courting before they shared their first kiss. 

She’d kissed his cheek numerous times before then, and he always stilled and soaked in the feeling – closing his eyes to let his other senses categorize the sensation best. 

This time was more. 

They’d just completed a mission – him being her escort to finding some rare plant in the Amazonian wilderness – and were waiting for the jump jet to land when she leaned up to kiss his cheek. He closed his eyes in anticipation.

Instead of warm pressure on his cheek, however, her lips touched the corner of his and he froze. His eyes flew open and he could see that she’d lost her balance and, likewise, had frozen against him, one hand braced against his shoulder. They breathed together for a moment before she dragged her mouth away in a slow kiss.

He shuddered and closed his eyes. 

Her hand stayed braced on his shoulder until the jump jet arrived.

He wanted to grab her and kiss her – and some very human part of him wanted to take her against the rough ground, but the wolf part of his bristled at the thought of Jemma having anything but the best.

He didn’t regret at all that they didn't kiss again for months – that it was back to the lovely cheek kisses and occasional caresses. He began to drop the occasional kiss to her forehead, often before bed. She would tilt her head up at him and smile like sunshine. 

Some of the agents made the mistake of trying to bother him about how he must have “blue balls” once. 

The main perpetrator – a specialist that Grant never bothered to learn the name of – ended up pinned to the wall with Grant’s forearm at his throat as Grant clearly and calmly explained how “blue balls” were a myth used to force women into sexual action they were potentially unwilling to engage in and if he caught any of them using that reasoning on anyone, ever, they would never have to worry about their balls again. 

Three agents ended up quitting SHIELD that day and Coulson gave Grant a disappointed look and sent him out on a month long mission so that no one else followed suit.

When he got back, Jemma gave him a hug that lasted for five minutes.


	2. let me count the ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She kissed him, on purpose, for the first time at twelve-thirteen at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a literal age since I last posted for this universe, and I am so sorry for that. I hope you all enjoy this, even if it isn't nearly as much as any of you who are still with me and have stuck around for this story deserve. 
> 
> Also, I am massively, _massively_ behind on comment replies. I will try to catch up (a little bit) this weekend.
> 
> You're all wonderful and I hope you enjoy.

She kissed him, on purpose, for the first time at twelve-thirteen at night. She’d stayed up late, working in her lab, and he’d busied himself nearby so that he’d be there to walk her to her room.

He knew that she knew he wasn’t doing anything but wasting time for her – but she also knew that he didn’t like her wandering the base at night by herself, not since there had started to be signs of a HYDRA mole. She’d put her foot down on him staying in her lab with her at all times, but had accepted his need to be nearby at night.

So he’d walked her to her door once she’d finished up. Both of them knew that they’d see each other later – he’d wake up when she did from her nightmares. But still it was appropriate to say goodnight.

She reached up to cup his cheek, not unusual at all since she’d gotten very physical recently. The hand behind his neck that pulled him down was new, however. But he went willingly.

He expected a hug. Or maybe a kiss on his cheek, and his eyes shuttered shut in anticipation when he felt warm pressure against his lips.

He knew she hadn’t slipped this time, so he kept his eyes shut and did his best to cement every moment into his mind. He focused first on the warmth of her lips, that they were slightly chapped and when she breathed he could feel them catch against his own, how her breath was vaguely minty – she’d had gum, at some point, since dinner had been stir-fry.

 She kept it chaste, dragging their dry lips against each other for a long moment before she sunk back to her heels.

 His eyes blinked open, hazily, and he stared at her for a long moment. There was a slight flush to her cheeks and her eyes were bright, her fingers moved from the back of his neck to his chest, fingertips resting against the skin revealed by his collar.

 He dropped a soft kiss to her forehead, breathing in her hair for a long moment and just staying there, letting her sink it in, before she took the step back.

 She was still smiling, eyes bright, as she opened her door and backed into her dark room, eyes fixed on him.

 He was filled with energy – he wanted to run or yell or fight or _something_.

 He waited until he heard her change into her pajamas and settle into bed before he moved to his room. He couldn’t run or yell or fight – it was the middle of the night and he wasn’t going to leave Jemma unprotected. Not when there was a potential mole and especially not from her nightmares.

 But there was no way he was going to be able to stay still. Not when every inch of his body buzzed with energy and itched for action.

 He wanted to howl – throat wolf or human didn’t seem to matter.

 But that would wake up the others – and make it harder for Jemma to get the sleep she needed.

 So instead he set himself to doing some simple exercises. Sit-ups and push-ups and anything else he could manage in his small shoebox of a room.

And if he paused, multiple times, to close his eyes and remember, well, he was the only one who knew. He could hear her heartbeat in the next room, and it kept him from wanting to run the energy off - but it also made it hard to even think about resting.

 When, hours later, her breathing started to speed up he hesitated. Would she want him as a wolf or a man? Would being a wolf make her think he was hiding or would it make her more comfortable?

He was still exercising, and he found himself frozen, then, heels on the floor and his arms holding himself a few inches off the ground, unsure of what to do.

But when she woke up completely with a gasp and the first words out of her mouth were, “Grant?” he didn’t delay going to her.

It was Jemma.

If she didn’t want the man she’d tell him and he’d change for her.

He loved her, after all, and he’d do his best to be what she needed at all times because he wanted her in his life and would do everything he could to make sure the feeling was mutual.

She clung to him, as soon as he knocked softly on her door she pulled it open and threw herself into his arms. His skin was sweaty, under the hastily pulled on t-shirt, but she didn’t seem to notice, taking large panicky breaths and clinging so hard that he could almost feel the bruising taking place.

He moved her backwards just enough that he could enter the room and shut the door behind them, giving her some privacy, and then he just held her. His hands rubbed her back and her neck and her head and he rumbled in his chest, pressing his lips to the top of her head. She smelled of sweat and fear and tears – but under all of that she smelled sunshine. 

The longer he held her – the longer she held him, it was more accurate to say – the more the sunshine smell grew to cover the others, and when finally he couldn’t smell the salt of her tears anymore, he shifted and picked her up. 

Her breathing had slowed and though she was still awake he thought maybe she’d exhausted herself in her panic.

That was all right. He’d keep her safe and she could get the sleep her body needed. 

He settled against the headboard and she curled up more fully against him, soles of her feet resting against his knees and head over his heart.

Her breathing and heart slowed further, but still she didn’t sleep.

He ran his fingers through her hair and after a few more moments of silence she started to tell him of her dream – of how she’d seen him killed again and again and _again_ and how he wasn’t _ever_ allowed to leave her.

She needed him and he’d promised.

He soothed her with promises that he had every intention of keeping.

Promises that, were anyone else to hear them, would sound an awful lot like wedding vows.

He meant them.

The only thing that could take him away from her would be her wish.


	3. the moon and stars they wept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grant returned from a dangerous mission, unsure of how Jemma would respond to the choices he'd made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vaguely for "biospecialist, a goodnight kiss" from tumblr. 
> 
> With this, I think, I mark the end of the Rogue Lycanthrope 'verse (though I mean end literally, there's a request for a fic in the middle I still have to do, though it's like fifty percent done so maybe soon done for real.)
> 
> Thank you everyone who was along for this journey, it meant a lot.

Grant’s ribs ached. The kind of dull but persistent ache that told him he was being given extremely high doses of pain medication and that his recovery would be longer than a few days.

He wanted to just go to his room and lick his wounds in peace, but Morse wouldn’t let him. Normally she wouldn’t have been able to stop him – even if he had to crawl there he would’ve done it to get out of the infirmary – but the woman was using Jemma’s name with brutal efficiency and so he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He knew Jemma was, physically, fine, which was the only thing keeping the wait from driving him mad.

He’d taken the beating on purpose. And it would be one thing if he was the only one who knew that – but everyone knew and everyone knew the reason why he hadn’t fought back and he’d known she wouldn’t approve of his actions but he’d still done it and he’d do it again.

He’d heal from this beating – he didn’t think he’d survive if something happened to her. (And considering how close he _had_ come to dying from the force of it, he didn’t want to consider what it would’ve done to her.)

So he’d wait. He’d wait because she might show up and he wouldn’t do anything to upset her – and even if she never showed up or saw him again he still wouldn’t disappoint her by hiding in his room when he should be being monitored. He knew the lack of care of his own health would hurt her still, even if she hated him it would still hurt her because she was far too kind.

It was barely six hours later and his patience and resolve were already being tested by the persistent beeping of the monitors – he could hear them from everywhere, every last one that was in use in the entire medical wing, and due to the pain meds he wasn’t having any luck filtering them out. He was fairly certain they could drive him mad.

Within the next hour he’d managed to at least unplug and switch off most of the machines attached to him – he could still hear the ones attached to the other people in the rooms around him, thin hospital walls doing little with his enhanced hearing – without calling the medical staff down on his head, and he was going to take it for the victory that it was.

“Grant?”

His head came up so fast he could hear his neck protesting, but it didn’t matter because Jemma was there, standing in the doorway, hesitant, eyes down and fingers gripping each other so hard he could see her bones through the skin.

“Jemma,” his own voice came out soft and rough – not pain, though there was still that, but emotion. She looked good, or, at least, not hurt.

She didn’t move and he wondered if she, somehow, hadn’t heard him.

“Jemma,” he said, holding out a hand towards her, as she hesitated, eyes wide and wet, and chin quivering.

She was on him in an instant – her touch so gentle he could barely feel it and he leaned into the hand on his cheek even as his ribs protested the move. He could read her face and it felt like he could finally breathe again – she was scared, not angry.

“I’m fine, Jemma, I’m fine.” She collapsed against him, and he was relieved he’d managed to toggle the monitoring equipment off already, because there was no noise to indicate how his heart rate jumped and how his breathing labored with her nestled against him.

“Don’t,” her voice broke on the word and he pressed kisses to what skin he could reach as she trembled against him, “don’t do that to me again. Don’t you ever –“

He held her while she sobbed and felt his own heart break. He had vowed, to himself, to never cause her pain and here he was.

And he’d do it again if he had to.

He’d take worse than a beating if it meant keeping her safe, but he didn’t voice those thoughts to her, he didn’t think she’d want to hear them.

“I’m fine,” he repeated instead, running careful hands down her back. He continued to repeat it, pressing the occasional kiss to her skin and hair, until she’d fallen asleep, there against him, and then he just held her. It didn’t matter that his ribs ached where her head rested against him, or that every time she shifted he could feel his stitches pull uncomfortably. All that mattered was that she was there, with him, and he never had to let her go.

He never wanted to let her go.

The ring he’d picked out for her was a simple band with small chips of stone in it. (He’d immediately chosen the band before finding out what the stones were, because he knew it would look perfect on her and she’d be able to wear it under her gloves without fear of ripping, and he wasn’t quite willing to admit to anyone that he’d somehow gotten her a ring with _moonstones_ in it. He could already imagine the hell Skye was going to give him over it.)

He’d had plans to give her the ring soon. Very soon. Not to propose, necessarily, just to let her know that when she was ready he was as well.

But now…He closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of her nestled in his arms, he could still smell the fear and worry on her, though it was slowly being replaced by sleepy contentment. He knew the fear was for him, not of him, but it didn’t make it easier to bear. He hated that she would ever feel fear.

And _he_ was afraid that, if he were to give her the ring now, she’d say yes out of fear of losing him. So he’d have to wait.

He could be patient, even if every part of him cried out for her like it always would. He would be patient and he would ask her later. Once this fear had faded somewhat. Once his own fear of losing her had faded too.

He tugged her closer, fingers slipping through her hair as he breathed deep and shut his eyes, finally letting sleep claim him.

**Author's Note:**

> My writing tumblr can be found [here](http://capriciouswrites.tumblr.com/)! Come say hi and give me a prompt.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed!


End file.
